


When Winter Came

by Watashi_wa_Okami



Series: Oneshots no one asked for [13]
Category: Gintama
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Cold, Cold Weather, Dadtoki, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, If You Squint - Freeform, Light Angst, Memories, Repressed Memories, Walk down memory lane, Winter, Yorozuya Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-14 06:22:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29912733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Watashi_wa_Okami/pseuds/Watashi_wa_Okami
Summary: Stories of a time past had never entertained Gintoki. What was the point, dwelling on something so buried?
Relationships: Kagura & Sakata Gintoki, Kagura & Sakata Gintoki & Shimura Shinpachi, Kagura & Sakata Gintoki & Shimura Shinpachi & Shimura Tae, Kagura & Shimura Shinpachi, Kagura & Shimura Tae, Sakata Gintoki & Shimura Shinpachi, Sakata Gintoki & Shimura Tae, Shimura Shinpachi & Shimura Tae
Series: Oneshots no one asked for [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1516460
Comments: 2
Kudos: 33





	When Winter Came

**Author's Note:**

> Focus less on Christmas, more on Winter.

More often than not, the Yorozuya would spend the colder days at the Shimura's home. Partially because they had more blankets and rooms but mostly thanks to the fact that heat gets expensive. Too expensive, and for how much Gintoki tries to weasel his way into not paying for things, they've noticed how he tries to not be Otose's most expensive tenant. He would hardly turn on the heat, careful to bundle up and stiff through it.

Then Kagura moved in. Or they can only assume that's what happened, seeing as they didn't know him before then. She'd complain about the cold and he'd be quick to bundle her up, wrapping her in every available blanket and leaving himself with only a his standard yukata and a thick haori on top. For how often he complains about the little things, he'd never made a peep on the temperature, just stuffed his hands in his sleeves and hunched over on the couch.

But Kagura would still complain. Eventually, he'd turn the heat up. His only other option would be to leave it to her and she'd definitely break it, that or make it 35 degrees and _then_ break it, leaving them sweaty and uncomfortable. So, he turns it up a few degrees, maybe five but no more. Enough, but not without staying in that bundle of blankets. But enough nonetheless.

But as the nights grow colder and Gintoki watches how Kagura's ears turn to a bright pink, he asks Shinpachi if they can go over to his place.

He isn't obvious and at first Shinpachi just stares at him, a gentle crease between his brows as he stares at Gintoki. He'd been in the middle of cleaning, broom in hand, when Gintoki had waltzed up to him. He doesn't prod and hardly asks a question, though his glasses to shine as he tilts his head. But he says yes and Gintoki immediately spins around.

"Oi, Kagura, get dressed!"

And then they leave. Sometimes, they'd spend the night at the Shimura's. They'd at least stay for dinner, Gintoki cooking more often than not. He'd say it's because he wants something edible (something that won't kill him overnight) but there's an underlying sense of gratitude. As if he were cooking to repay them for their hospitality. And he's a good cook, better than one would think for such a lazy protagonist. Why he has such a motherly trait is beyond them (although they know why. He has two kids to care for, after all.)

At dinner, they sit around the kotatsu. Shinpachi had brewed the tea and Gintoki made something simple and warm. Steam floats from their bowls and they indulge themselves. But it's a slow night, one brought on by the homeliness. Warm and cozy, blankets draped across shoulders and pulling them into the warmth below. It drags through their nerves, leaving them droopy-eyed but not tired. Just, content. Peaceful. An atmosphere they had almost forgotten, something lost to them in the mess of violence and tragedy that had become their lives.

They notice first how Kagura slows and her eating grows less barbaric. Rice still sticks to the corner of her lip but she chews much less like a squirrel, cheeks not quite bulging as they often do. And then she smiles, small and warm. In the warmth, her bright eyes glow in memories long past and, without her consent, she speaks. Nostalgia pours from her, filling her chest in bittersweet memories that spill out of her mouth and into the world. It's an accident. They can see how she seems to forget just where the story will lead.

But they don't.

Her mother had always been a sore spot, and as she begins, a _Mami_ spilling out, a smile on her lips, they pause. Gintoki not so much, but Shinpachi stopped mid-sip. Tae flicked her eyes to Shinpachi before settling once more on the girl. She shifts closer in a subtle movement and they wait.

She talks on for a minute, describing how her _Papi_ had come home this time. They didn't call it Christmas, she'd first heard of that on Earth. It was just a time for them and their family. Umibozu, being a star-traveling man, brought home the strangest gifts. He showered them in absent love, telling wild stories that lit a fire in Kagura's heart. They made her see the stars past those looming clouds, they warmed her from the inside out, far from the humidity she'd grown in.

But then the story shifted, as they knew it would. It twisted around how Umibozu would leave them, as he often did, except this time not far. He'd leave them to their toys and trinkets but then he'd hunker down by her mother's bed. He'd sit like the ever-present shadow of their mothers past. He'd hold her hand in both of his, whispering in her ear and kissing her cheeks. His eyes would flood with concern. Kagura had never understood it all. She'd wanted to rush in and throw her gifts onto her mother, repeating stories she had just heard. She wanted to chase away the shadows and the fears. She wanted her mother to laugh and smile, not soothe that balding man.

And yet, she didn't. She stayed frozen in place, toys forgotten. Kamui would sit with her, boring holes into their fathers back. Kagura, however, only had eyes for her mom.

Kagura's words begin to peter off and her hands drop, tea long forgotten. Her eyes fall and Tae almost presses herself into the girls side. Comfortingly close but distant enough for her to sit and breathe, lost but they wouldn't let her stay there. Across from them, Shinpachi watches helplessly. But when he looks to Gintoki, the man's not much different. His attention's on the girl, of course it is, but he isn't looking at her. His cup has also been left on the table, his head turned and his gaze on the falling snow. It glints in the moonlight and frost has begun dancing across the window in light swirls. Outside, the wind whistles.

Kagura finally stops as she bites her lip, blue gaze growing dull as they drift further down.

"You remember our last Christmas with Father, Shinpachi?" Tae asks, low and sweet, gaze flicking to her brother. He startles at the question, quick to look back at the two. 

"Oh, uh, yeah. Yeah, it was - it was nice." Shinpachi nods quickly. "It was... a lot like tonight," he admits after a moment of thought. Without his permission, his memories drift much like Kagura's had. They pick up their own story, one of their father, sick and yet lively, a combination that could almost make them forget their worries. They mention Hajime - the name makes Gintoki twitch, eyes flicking to Shinpachi for half a second - and how he'd keep the festives going. How they'd laugh until they cried, and how the cold outside was but a distant threat compared to the comfort in their hearts.

It helps, they think, and Kagura drifts back into reality. She's quiet as she continues, popping in more stories of old. More wounds that had yet to properly heal, and they mend, slowly. They're painful but not unbearable. The Shimura siblings stay with her every step of the way.

But as they keep talking, opening their hearts to bleed once more, the silence across the table grows more defined. They begin leaving more openings, places where Gintoki could chime in, where he could bring himself to the conversation and open up as he seldom does.

Of course, he doesn't follow in suit. He sips on lukewarm tea and stares out into the oncoming blizzard. They'll probably stay the night, perhaps the next couple of days. Sadaharu had come with them so he would be taken care of. Perhaps he'd make breakfast tomorrow.

Shinpachi doesn't pressure Gintoki. They're all aware of how little the man willingly shares. He's careful like that, self-destructive like that, not that they had any way to understand the depth of his scars.

But just this once, _this once,_ as they sit in their little family, warm and safe and content enough to spill buried secrets, they wish he'd join.

Unlike Shinpachi, Tae purses her lips. She takes to staring at Gintoki. She's careful to stay in the conversation but her gaze lingers. She watches how he twitches. She watches how the pads of his pale fingers tap the table, light and silent. She watches how his eyes, while on the window, drift down, gaze falling from peaceful fondness. She watches how he simply goes through the motions of drinking his tea, hardly sipping at the liquid inside. Present, but only barely. Lost yet unwilling to share. Tearing open the wounds of his heart, mind adrift in the cavity of his being.

"Did you celebrate Christmas?" Kagura asks. She had been staring too. After all, Gintoki sat directly across from her. She couldn't help but witness his lack of presence, let alone the fact that she'd taken to eyeing him like a hawk. He was a hard man to read on a good day but she lives with him, she's seen many things. Him staring off into space, silent and drifting? That was hardly a good sign. She's seen him do it often. At first it was odd, him staring at the wall for minutes before responding to a stale question. She'd blamed the sugar and the sweets and the alcohol - _especially_ the alcohol.

Except, it would keep happening. She couldn't quite figure out how to pull him from it. She could make him responsive but it would only last for a few minutes. Then his mind would drift away again and she'd be left, helpless and hopelessly frustrated.

When she stopped trying to pull him from it, that turned out to be worse. It would just draw her in, pulling at her own thoughts and turning her into an empty shell. Mind floating and body numb.

Gintoki always seemed to notice the silent shift and he'd kick her out, telling her to take Sadaharu for a walk. He would never take no for an answer, no matter how much Kagura didn't want to leave him alone.

But this time? This time she isn't alone. This time, she can pull him out and Shinpachi and Tae, they're right there with her. With him.

He blinks as his senses take a moment to catch up with reality. When he turns his head, neck stiff, he meets her bright eyes.

"Christmas? That was forever ago," he drawls and sets his cup down and the ceramic hits the table with a light _thunk_ _._ Shinpachi's face compresses at that and he pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose, gaze drifting to his equally torn sister. Kagura, however, just raises a pale brow.

"So?" She bites at him but she doesn't glare, doesn't scowl. She's careful to keep the anger away. "I never - I never _celebrated_ 'Christmas' with Mami," Kagura says but she pauses and gnaws on her lip, hand twiddling with her red sleeve. A pink hue dusts her pale cheeks, anger and embarrassment tugging at her expression, compressing it until a sheen comes to her bright eyes. "That doesn't, it doesn't..." _doesn't what?_

Gintoki stares at her, watching how she slowly slumps. Her small shoulders, too small to carry such a weight, crumble. But the tears don't fall. Although perhaps that's from sheer will power, seeing how bright red her pale face grows and how her nose scrunches, little lines appearing around her eyes.

But Tae and Shinpachi say nothing. But they don't ignore her plight. They can't. Tae rests a comforting hand on Kagura's arm, perhaps to make sure the girl doesn't scratch herself in her anxieties - she tended to do that, sometimes. A form of grounding herself that they'd been careful to not let become a habit. Shinpachi just looks at Gintoki. The man doesn't meet his gaze, more than aware of the disappointment pooling in those innocent eyes. Instead, Gintoki forces his shoulders back and his eyes flutter shut, images flashing in the darkness.

When he opens his mouth, they expect some clean lie to spill out, something that would pull Kagura from her funk in a fit of rage. That's what he would typically do. He'd rather that than actually tell them what they're asking for. After all, he knows the answers and he knows they don't want that full truth.

Instead, he breathes.

"You know I didn't have a family," he says, monotone, stating a fact that they had seemingly forgotten. Shinpachi pauses at that, lungs freezing and mind halting so suddenly it spins behind his eyes. Kagura inhales a sharp breath and her head flies up, vermillion hair falling in front of her eyes in wild strands. She's quick to brush them away (and in that fluid movement, she wipes the tears from her eyes.) They hadn't forgotten but... but they had. Somehow, the fact had slipped their minds. "Winter was..." he pauses but they can't see his anxiety. He just rolls sentences around in his head, silver hair bobbing all the while as he tilts it. A finger taps the worn wood of the kotatsu before landing on the rim of his forgotten drink. He rocks the cup back, filling the silence with the rolling of ceramic against the table, _ba-thump._ It rocks uneasily, both surfaces worn down but sturdy. The steady _ba-thump, ba-thump_ oddly keeps them in the moment, and yet it still lets their thoughts wander.

Gintoki takes his time, aware that they'd wait. Although he doesn't want them waiting for too long, doesn't want them to grow worried in his silence. There was no need for that; they shouldn't have to worry about him. But his mind spins, memories swirling around the different ways he could explain it to them, some more morbid than others. Some more concerning.

He wouldn't tell them about the faces he had seen, faces of men with skin growing black from the cold and eyes milky. He couldn't tell them about how cold they had felt as he'd searched their bodies, how moving their arms had been almost impossible with how stiff they had grown. He wouldn't tell them about the times he'd watched his own skin grow blue, icy and cold and how terrified it made him. How the puffs of air from his lips reminded him of his very soul leaving. And death would be that quick, _could_ be that quick, couldn't it? So he'd find places to huddle, pulling the fabric over his toes and burying his head in the stretched hole of his shirt. And he'd shivered for what felt like days, praying that he'd scavenged _enough,_ eaten _enough,_ because scouring a snow-covered battlefield without shoes was a bad, bad idea.

He'd seen plenty of people freeze to death. It wasn't how he wanted to go, frozen with eyes sunken and mouth wide open, black and blue and stiff. Waiting for the snow to bury him, leaving the corpse to rot another day.

(It was something he'd thought a lot about that day at the graveyard. The one death he didn't want, and yet, sitting against that cold stone, he'd found peace in it. Maybe because the numbness took away the pain, maybe because he'd learned how sadistic the Heavens truly were.)

"Winter's were hard." He settles on that, vague and careful. He keeps his façade in place even though they try to peer underneath it. And they try. They stare at his face and they don't miss how he pulls his hand away from the cup. They wait for him to elaborate, aware that, on any normal day, he wouldn't. But then he flicks his eyes to Kagura. He sees that she's trying to understand. Her face has scrunched together, a crease between her brows. It's tight but different from before, strained in frustration and curiosity rather than the abandoned melancholy of before. Cheeks pink from the strain rather than anger. Again, he breathes. "Though I wasn't stupid. There were temples and abandoned houses, places to keep warm." He finally turns fully to the table and rests his arm on it before loosely holding his abandoned chopsticks. "Not that I didn't know what Christmas was, I wasn't _that_ pitiful."

He then takes a bite of food. It's not warm but he'd gotten enough of his appetite back, and he's more than used to eating food that has long lost its heat.

But they can't help but stare. Seeing as he'd gone back to relative normal, they follow in suit. They'd gotten more than they'd expected, after all. But they sit in silence. The sound of chopsticks clinking against their bowls once again fills they air, light and repetitive. Lulling, almost, as if this moment were little more than a dream. They nibble on the leftovers, not really hungry but they don't leave Gintoki alone. They hope he doesn't notice but he does glance to their bowls, aware that they're scrapping the bottom while he still has a decent amount. Kagura just goes for seconds, but she doesn't screech about it.

It's slow, once more. Quiet, and yet not suffocating in buried secrets and untouched stories. Of course, there's a lot to still uncover. But, for now, the warmth has returned and before they know it, smiles have drifted onto their faces. Serene and peaceful. They bask in each others presence and later share in that community warmth, Sadaharu in the mix as they watch some show or another. Content in the solidity of their relationships. It's a feeling often only prevalent after a major incident so it's a nice change, for nothing major to have happened and yet for them to feel so strong. So united.

So safe inside and away from the cold.

Gintoki only looks to the window once. The darkness outside has grown pale, a certain brightness taking to it with the snow covered ground. The moon stands out, bright and full, washing the world in its pale light. Silver. Breathtaking. Kagura looks out the window as well. Her gaze flicks to Gintoki first before following his gaze, looking through white frost and to the clear sky above, the stars that she watches any chance she gets.

They smile.

**Author's Note:**

> Gintoki's official age was revealed a while back and I... I really like that he's 27 (29 post-timeskip.) Not that I would have been disappointed if he were 25ish like we all assumed, but it adds a whole different thing, him being a tad older. And, personally, I really like that.


End file.
